


Contest of Champions

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Series: Dust to Dust [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warden Brosca is short. Sten is tall. Alistair thought he knew how this fight would end.</p>
<p>As usual, life likes to prove him wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contest of Champions

When Sten challenged Lira to a fight outside of Lothering, Alistair was almost certain she’d refuse.

It was the most logical course of action, and that thought came from a man who was rarely logical. Lira was a brand new Warden, fresh off of her Joining, and despite the talents she brought from back home, it was clear in her fights that she had little official training. While she could hold her own in most bouts, a fist fight to prove dominance was a risky venture against anyone with experience. Like, for example, an almost seven foot tall Quanari. Especially considering that Lira was barely 5 feet on a good day.

That height difference was rather visible now, given that they were standing face to face. Lira had to look up to glare at Sten, and Alistair wondered if the angle hurt her neck. Sten, in contrast, loomed over the Warden, all muscle, staring right down to meet her glare. If the sun was still up, Lira would have been lost in his shadow.

“Warden Brosca,” Sten said, voice low and commanding. It reminded Alistair of his time in the Templars, of cold ice steel and sharp words. “Do you accept my challenge?”

Alistair expected her to shake her head, or to sign something off for Leliana or Morrigan to translate. Something around the lines of “if you don’t want me leading, leave.” But instead, Lira shrugged off her shield. Placed it on the ground. Her sword followed suit, the straps that held up the scabbard undone with quick and careful fingers. She placed it next to her shield before looking up at Sten. Her right hand gestured out towards one of the larger clearings in the camp.

It wasn’t until she nodded that Alistair realized that she planned on taking up his challenge.

“What-” He said as the pair walked over towards the clearing. Leliana was already following suit, likely to watch the pair battle it out. Morrigan passed Alistar to follow as well and he turned to her for clarification. “What is she doing?”

Morrigan looked over to him and scowled. That was her default expression for him, it seemed. Alistair wasn’t sure she was capable of smiling. Or fun. Or joy. “Shutting his mouth. I for one am looking forward to it; for a Quanari he talks far too much.”

The only person who talked less than Sten was Lira and that was because she couldn’t actually speak. Alistair hoped he wasn’t gaping. He gestured to Lira and Sten who were readying themselves in the clearing. “But..”

Morrigan’s scowl deepened, covering that she was displeased for other reasons besides Alistair’s presence. “You’re doubting she can win? Why? Because she is a woman? Because she is small?”

“No, of course-” He cut off before he could finish. What other reason could he give? There was no other line of thought that would explain his hesitance. Alistair found himself finding Morrigan’s glare well deserved for once.

“Hmp,” Morrigan said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Men.” To Alistair’s surprise, she reached out to grab one of his gauntlets. With a slight tug, she forced him to the clearing where the rest of the gang had gathered. Sten and Lira were standing on opposite sides of the clearing.

“Are you ready, Grey Warden?” Sten’s voice rumbled in the darkness. Lira was still for a moment until she nodded. There was a beat of pure stillness. And then, motion.

Sten charged first, heading towards Lira like a bull might. His right fist was stretched backwards, clenched tight, and Alistair could see the bulk of muscle that would be behind his swing. Lira stood her ground, heels digging into the dirt. She lifted her hands up as Sten’s arm came down and Maker, Alistair couldn’t watch, she was going to lose teeth-

No teeth were lost. As Sten punched forward, Lira moved to the side just so slightly. Enough that the fist sailed past her face. Before Sten could react, she had wrapped her left arm around his bicep, trapping his arm in position. She shifted her feet, forcing his arm upward, and Sten grunted in surprise. Lira forced her right arm back, her hand in a tight closed fist, and before anyone could understand what she was doing, she forced the palm of her fist into Sten’s wrist.

The cracking noise made them all flinch. Sten’s cry of pain was only an afterthought.

He stumbled back and she released him. Alistair could see Sten’s wrist was bent at an odd angle now, that had to be a fracture, and he couldn’t help but gape at the damage. How had she done that? Where had she learned to do that?

“The streets of Orzammar are not kind,” Morrigan said, as if reading his mind. Alistair rather hoped that wasn’t the case. “Especially to those who are castless.”

Casteless. Lira had mentioned that once, back before everything went to shit and Duncan was her translator. Alistair had asked her about the brand on her cheek and she’d explained that it meant she was Castless. Before Alistair could ask more questions, Duncan had been pulled away for a meeting, forsaking them of their translator for Lira’s hand signs.

He wished now that he’d had the chance to ask more.

“Again,” Sten growled. Lira just shrugged her shoulders. This time the fight was longer, maybe by a few seconds, but by the end of it, Sten was on the ground with a brand new bruise on his torso. This time, Lira was the one leaning over him. Leliana cheered.

“The girl is a Grey Warden for a reason,” Morrigan said as Lira helped Sten up. “I think your foolish brain can attempt to understand that.”

For once, Alistair thought she had a rather good point.


End file.
